The Corrections, novel by Jonathan Franzen, published in 2001.
An immense work of 21st-century American social criticism in fictional form, The Corrections has been variously hailed as “the Bleak House of the digital age” and “hysterical realism,” a sub-genre of Postmodern fiction, defined by “chronic length, frenzied action, manic characters and a tendency to digress into other topics not central to the story.” The novel does exhibit these characteristics—exploring the dark corners of numerous issues, from globalization, the pharmaceutical industry, and economic colonization to the state of Eastern Europe and 21st-century university life—but its appealing, intellectual style brings warmth and humanity to its epic tale of the dysfunctional Lambert family and their attempt to meet for one last family Christmas. Although published in the United States just days before the tragedy of 9/11, the novel has been hailed for capturing the angst and anxieties so common in wake of the attacks.
In the story, Alfred and Enid Lambert and their three adult offspring, Gary, Chip and Denise, bear a heavy burden. Gary is navigating the straits of depression while trying to secure a happy family life; Chip is squaring his university tenure with his attraction to young girls and the inevitable consequences; and Denise is balancing her success as a chef with her undiscriminating sexual tastes and her mother’s wish for her to settle down and marry. Enid has Alfred to bear, and he has Parkinson’s disease and is dying, even as Enid quietly undermines his conservative political views.
The significance of the novel genre for Franzen lies not with the stories it can tell but with the fact that it can tell any story at all, that the novel as a form enables the making visible of that stream of connections and unities that constitute a life, whereas life itself, pummeled with distractions and weak with forgetting, hides nine-tenths or more of the work that creates and sustains it. The Corrections asks as much of its readers as it asks of itself, limning the interlocking relations, careers, and madnesses of a Midwestern, middle-class, middle-aged American family of the sort that is so familiar in the country’s social landscape.
The pace of the novel is frenetic, simply because it has to be: it is an encyclopedic work, meticulously detailed about the areas of American life it brings under its gaze, with none too subtle digs at consumerism, materialism, and the emptiness of so much of contemporary culture. These details are so multifarious, their significances so varied yet so irrefutable, that The Corrections creates something of the multi-coloured polyphony of history itself, and its scope and exuberance make it an oddly affirmative and even joyful novel that is simultaneously an ambitious critique of modern times.
The Corrections was an instant bestseller. Oprah Winfrey chose it for her book club, it won the National Book Award for 2001, and it was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize that year. It sharply divided both critics and readers, with some dismissing it as a potboiler and others praising it as a future classic of American literature, and the work is still contested decades after its first publication.